The Science of Listener Attention
by Redconky
Summary: While staffers prepare for impeachment proceedings, they find wisdom between the notes of some songs.


Title: The Science of Listener Attention  
Pen Name/Nickname: Redconky  
Email:   
Author's Notes: _This is the fourth installment in the "A Fork in the Road" series. As always, characters' thoughts are in italics. Feedback will let me know if I'm on the right track. Feedback is like cookies right from the oven, but without the calories. It's also greatly appreciated! The title comes from one of Toby's lines from "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail" when he's explaining how to make a point in a speech. "See what I did with lowers and raises there? It's called the science of listener attention." This is a multiple-song fanfic that is much lighter in demeanor than "Panic In Detroit" and is more like a slice-of-life, getting insight into the characters' thoughts type of story. Spoilers are through "Manchester II". This 24-hour period is within the "Manchester I, Manchester II" timeframe, but before CJ tells Leo she's thinking about jumping ship. All the usual disclaimers apply. Muchas gracias to my loyal betas Sara and Noriane! I hope you enjoy it._

Donna saw the light escaping through the space between Colleen's door and the floor, although it seemed muted. She debated whether or not to knock on her door at such a late hour – or rather early hour. But if Colleen was up at 2:36 a.m. and she was up as well, she might as well see if she can talk to her now.

It had been several days since they had returned from Detroit. After Toby and Sam asked Colleen if she wanted to assist the re-election campaign in terms of writing various pieces, Colleen jumped at the chance even though she knew she would be relatively low on the food chain. Her first assignment was to plough through volumes of background information on policies and on the President.

With slight hesitation, Donna knocked softly on the door.

Colleen opened it quickly, pulled Donna inside, and shut the door as quietly as possible. Colleen put her forefinger to her lips, signaling to Donna not to speak.

Donna looked around the apartment. A couple of lamps were on, but at the lowest of their settings. She also heard music playing. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't recall the name of the piece at the moment. Several candles scattered around the room were lit. Colleen scrawled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Donna.

"It's Claude Debussy's String Quartet in G Minor. The part I want to hear is coming up. Listen. You'll know it when you hear it."

Donna was a bit puzzled, but sat down. She saw Colleen do the same, but Colleen also closed her eyes. Colleen moved her hands as if she were the one conducting the orchestra. The notes began to climb – first slowly, and then shortly thereafter Donna heard unity in the harmony of these instruments that had originally been playing different melodies. Donna knew what Colleen had been waiting for as the smile spread across Colleen's face. She looked more at ease than when she had answered the door just moments ago. The music softened after that sudden rush for the remainder of the piece. As the final notes sounded, Colleen opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry if I seemed curt, but I had been looking forward to hearing that all day," Colleen said. "Just getting home?"

"Yeah," Donna said without trying to conceal her weariness. "I haven't seen you this week, and I saw the light on--"

"No need to explain," Colleen interrupted. "I'm glad you stopped by. You gave me a much-needed break from my reading."

"What are you working on?"

"As it stands, I am currently the sole pupil in the Toby Ziegler School of Political Strategy. See that two-foot tall stack of papers?"

"Yeah?"

"That is the start of the reading he wants me to do before he'll let me do anything with the campaign. But, I digress. What was it you wanted to talk about?"

Donna knew she needed to talk to someone outside of The White House.

"I've been thinking about what you said about me and Josh . . . getting together . . . romantically. I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'Why not?' It would be too problematic. He's my boss. We are together constantly. I don't know if we could separate our work and personal lives."

"Donna, how much do you and Josh separate your professional and personal lives right now? You two really don't have personal lives. None of the senior staff members have personal lives. That goes for you, too." Colleen let out a heavy sigh. "Let's get real, Donna. Aren't there times when you two are working late together – like tonight – when you see piles and piles of paper on his desk and you just want to take your arm, sweep them off, tackle him, thrown him down and have your way with him?"

Colleen's scenario brought a huge grin to Donna's face.

"Me? Tackle him?"

"Why not? You're a tall girl. You could take him. Donna, life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."

"Where have I heard that before?"

"You like musicals?"

"As much as anyone else, I guess."

"It's from Mame. And it's true. Think of it as a modern version of Robert Herrick's To the Virgins, Make Much of Time, that whole 'Gather Ye Rosebuds' type of thing."

Donna remembered her whole 'rosebuds' speech to Josh and found it ironic that Colleen was quoting it to her now.

"Does that help?" Colleen asked.

"A little bit. Everyone is anxious these days. I'm not quite sure why – we've got a lot on our plates as it is. We have to get through an investigation before we can go into re-election mode."

"Well, I'm no political strategist," Colleen began, "but you almost have to take the two together. If the investigation makes President Bartlet or anyone in his administration look bad, you'll have to go into damage control mode, which will directly impact your chances of getting re-elected, so I understand their concern. But enough shop talk – you look like you could use some shut-eye. Do you want some herbal tea to help you sleep?"

"No, but I appreciate the offer. Have a good night," Donna said as she got up to leave. Then she stopped and turned back towards Colleen.

"You know, I thought it was a little weird at first when you pulled me in here and wanted me to be quiet to listen to the music. But I have to admit it was kind of nice just to listen to the music and only the music. It seemed more powerful, just focusing on that."

"Listening to music reminds me how we can absorb more by listening instead of being distracted by thinking of what we will say in response to whatever the person speaking to us is saying while they are saying it." Colleen paused for a moment. "That came out a bit awkward, but do you know what I'm getting at?"

Donna smiled. She thought about how people in the West Wing talk so quickly it seems as if they are trying to break the sound barrier. Everyone wanted to be heard, but so many often failed to really hear anyone else's thoughts.

"I know exactly what you're getting at. Goodnight, Colleen."

"Goodnight, Donna. Pleasant dreams."

As Donna walked away from Colleen's apartment, she heard the strains of Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp.

While she turned the key in her door, Donna thought about how she could get herself to sleep since she was still wound up. When she had finished getting ready to go to bed, she noticed in the mail pile a package from a Stephanie Gault. She opened it and read the note:

"I know you've been having trouble sleeping. I burned this CD for you, hoping it might help you relax. Try listening to it – especially track 8, 'Take My Hand' by Dido. It has kind of an ethereal sound to it. Also listen to the lyrics – I think you'll understand why when you hear them. Take care and we'll catch up soon. Love, Steph."

Donna grabbed her Discman, slipped the CD in and lay in bed. Even though the song was a dance song, it did have that 'night song' air about it. The lyrics hit home, especially in light of her conversation with Colleen a few minutes earlier.

Touch my skin and tell me what you're thinking  
Take my hand and show me where we're going  
Lie down next to me, look into my eyes, and tell me  
Oh tell me what you're seeing  
So sit on top of the world and tell me how you're feeling  
What you feel right now is what I feel for you  
Take my hand and if I'm lying to you  
I'll always be alone  
If I'm lying to you  
See my eyes, they carry your reflection   
Watch my lips and hear the words I'm telling you  
Give your trust to me, look into my heart and show me  
Show me what you're doing . . .

Damn, Donna thought, even Stephanie sensed it. Josh and I can't go on like this. Something's got to give  
. . . and soon.

Feel the sun on your face and tell me what you're thinking  
Catch the snow on your tongue and show me how it tastes  
Take your time  
Take my hand and if I'm lying to you  
I'll always be alone . . .

The verses began to repeat. When the song ended, she put it on "repeat". The techno beat with the echoing quality of Dido's voice finally lulled Donna to sleep.

On the other side of town, Josh was negotiating the dense fog that blanketed the capitol, looking for something on the radio to soothe his tired body and soul. He heard a slow song that seemed to fit the bill. A young woman with a sexy, slightly husky voice began to sing.

She will never be  
Invincible  
She will never be  
Some Florence Nightingale  
Her threshold's invisible  
But she'll hang on like hell . . .

Sounds like Donna, Josh mused. Except Donna was kind of like Florence Nightingale when I was . . . off work. He continued to listen, focusing on the lyrics.

She may be transparent  
She's got no defenses to speak of  
But she'll stand here before you  
With no pride or prejudice   
Just steadfast and certain  
That she'll land on her own two feet  
You'll think you can break her  
'Cause you think she's crazy and weak  
But her power will defy you when she  
Wears her heart on her sleeve . . .

Yes, Josh thought. Donna's vulnerable. Someone has to protect her from the local gomers. What am I saying? Toby said Donna took the news about the President better than the rest of us. Maybe I tell myself she needs to be protected so I can justify my paternalism. Wait – where did THAT come from?

Oh, you may condemn me with your bitter words and untouchable rage  
And you may torment me 'cause I don't lead my life your way . . .

Don't remind me of how brutal I've been when I've talked to her sometimes. Perhaps the reason I don't try for more is because I'm the biggest local gomer of them all. How can I let loose such harsh words on her after all she's done for me? She deserves better. Better than me.

You'll think you can break me  
Bring my head down to my knees  
But my power will defy you when  
My heart's on my sleeve

Donna's so strong. Maybe she'd be strong enough to hang in there while I work on becoming the man she deserves. Maybe. Josh turned off the ignition. While he climbed the stairs, Josh had another thought.

If I really want this, I need to become the man she deserves. I need to start soon. Maybe tomorrow. I have to stop saying "maybe". Make a decision, Lyman. Move, or don't move.

Stumbling into his apartment, Josh immediately ditched the tie, the shoes and the paperwork. Once he was ready, he climbed into bed, having made a resolution.

I'm going to move. Tomorrow, the new, improved Josh Lyman will appear. Or, at the very least, he'll be under construction.

The next morning as Donna was about to sit at her desk, she heard what has become a sort of wake-up call.

"DONNA!" Josh bellowed.

Donna calmly walked towards the doorway and leaned to one side of it.

"Josh, how many times do I have to tell you not to shout?"

"What is so wrong with shouting?"

"It makes people nervous. Sets them on edge."

"Well, as long as they are doing their work they've got nothing to be nervous about, right?"

"It's not that simple. What do you need?"

"I just, you know, wanted to go over the schedule for today. I also wanted to give you this cinnamon-raisin bagel – I picked up an extra for you in the mess."

Donna started to laugh – more precisely, cackle – as Josh held out the bagel for her.

"What's so damn funny?"

Donna continued to laugh for a minute and finally caught her breath. Josh's confused expression had extended her laughing jag.

"It's just something I heard recently. You wouldn't get it."

"I've got a pretty good sense of humor, Donna. Try me."

"No, it's one of those things where you had to be there."

"C'mon Donna. I really could use a good laugh right now."

"You won't laugh. But it is a sage piece of advice."

"What the hell is it?" Josh said impatiently. Damn. So much for the reformed Josh, he thought.

Donna regained her composure and repeated Colleen's quote.

"Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."

Josh let out a sigh of exasperation. "This is another variation of your 'Gather ye rosebuds' mantra, isn't it?"

"Actually, a friend quoted it to me."

"OK." Josh scratched his head, uncertain what to do with the pearl of wisdom.

"You've got staff in three minutes, followed by a meeting at the Justice Department regarding the tobacco lawsuit funding, lunch, and then you're meeting with Toby and Leo to work out more of your damage control strategy for the President."

Sam came up behind Donna and knocked on the door.

"Ready for staff?"

"Yeah. Thanks Donna." Josh offered Donna a small smile while he brushed against her in the doorway, which was not at all an unpleasant sensation.

Donna went back to her desk. Josh and Sam talked as they headed towards the staff meeting in Leo's office.

"Got a question for you," Josh began. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death'?"

"Yeah. It's from Mame."

"Isn't that a play?"

"A musical. Angela Lansbury played the title role on Broadway."

Josh stopped and stared at his friend. Sam stopped after a couple of steps and shot Josh an annoyed glance.

"What?"

"You just know way too much about musical theater, you know that?"

Sam shrugged off Josh's remark.

"It's true, though," Sam said as they resumed walking.

"What's true?"

"Life IS a banquet and most poor suckers ARE starving to death. Why do you bring it up?"

"Donna said it this morning."

Sam smiled to himself, but Josh caught it.

"What's so damned amusing about this expression? Donna laughed like a hyena when she said it."

"Well, I can't account for the laughing part," Sam said, "but you of all people need to heed that advice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Josh asked as they entered Leo's office.

"Ah, glad you two could finally join us," Leo said, pointing out the fact they were the last to arrive. "Let's get started." Josh never did get Sam to answer that question.

After the staff meeting, everyone went their separate ways to once again make the world safe for democracy – and help their embattled president. Toby looked at his messages on his desk and made a mental note to return his calls after he found Sam. As fate would have it, Sam found him before he could begin his search.

"Hey," Sam said.

"Hey yourself."

"Where have you been?"

"Lunch with Leo. Listen, I've been thinking – I think we all need to get together and blow off some steam. It's been like working in a pressure cooker."

"What did you have in mind?"

"You know that new piano bar by Donna's place?"

"Strokes of Genius?"

"Yeah. Spread the word among senior staff to meet there around 8ish tonight. I think we might be better able to think if we don't feel so caged in. If nothing else, we'll relax a little and maybe can recharge a bit."

"Sounds good. I'll send out a quick email."

"Make sure you spell check it!" Toby shouted as Sam returned to his office.

That night as the staff members trickled one or two at a time into Strokes of Genius, they gathered near the grand piano where a tall, thin man with receding wavy brown hair and John Lennon-style spectacles played pop standards with incredible ease. The air carried bits of cigar smoke as well as the aromas of fine imported beers and vintage wines. There was also a low-volume mix of silverware striking dinner plates and lively conversation.

The staff was able to laugh a little over dinner and drinks, but the tension Toby wanted to break only cracked slightly. When a petite brunette with a slightly smoky voice started to sing, Toby became inspired.  
He turned to CJ.

"Wanna dance?" Toby asked.

"Excuse me?" CJ shouted over the din of the crowd. Toby got up and offered his hand to her.

"May I have this dance?" A small smile spread across CJ's face.

"Certainly," she replied as she got out of the booth. Josh and Donna followed their lead. Both couples headed for the floor while Sam and Charlie looked on.

"Somewhere, someday  
We'll be close together, wait and see  
Oh, by the way  
This time the dream's on me

You'll take my hand  
And you'll look at me adoringly  
But as things stand   
This time the dream's on me

It would be fun   
To be certain that I'm the one  
To know that I, at least, supply the shoulder you cry upon

To see you through  
'Till you're everything you want to be  
It can't be true, but  
This time the dream's on me . . ."

During the bridge, Toby spoke in low tones to CJ.

"I didn't see you all day today. Come to think of it, except for meetings, I'm not seeing much of you these days."

"I know. Keeping the press corps at arm's length is difficult when they've decided it's OK to bite it off."

"Next to the President and his family, you're probably having the worst time of all of us. You have to battle on the front lines every day."

"It's becoming harder all the time. I didn't know I could feel this drained and still be capable of standing upright, let alone walking," CJ replied.

Toby pulled her a little closer.

"You know, if you ever need anything--"

"I know, Toby," CJ said wearily, cutting him off.

Toby leaned in more and whispered softly in her ear. "I mean, ANYTHING, Claudia Jean. I'm here for you."

CJ leaned back slightly to look at Toby's face. His expression was softer than normal, and his eyes showed his concern. Her eyes were half-open.

"To be completely honest, I might need you to drive me home."

"Sure thing," Toby replied as they resumed dancing. He brought her a little closer still, and CJ leaned her head on his left shoulder.

While Toby and CJ had their conversation, Josh and Donna had one of their own.

"You're right," Josh said out of the blue.

"Of course I am. What am I right about this time?" Donna asked.

"You're claiming to be right before I tell you what I think you're right about?"

"I'm right all the time. You just don't give me credit for it. I'm savoring the moment."

Josh gave Donna a furtive glance.

"Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."

"So what are you going to do about it, Joshua?"

"I think I'm going to head for the smorgasbord."

"How do you propose to do that?"

"By being more spontaneous?"

"Is that a reply or a question?"

"Both. It's a guess."

"You, Joshua Lyman, political strategist extraordinaire, are going to be more spontaneous."

"Yes."

"How?"

Josh stared deeply into Donna's eyes. He then let her go, twirled her around, pulled her back into his arms and dipped her. He then held her delicate frame closely to his own, and searched her face for her reaction. Donna donned a warm smile.

"By using smooth dance moves with me?"

"It's a start," he said.

There was a quick pause while Josh leaned in to whisper into Donna's ear.

"I know sometimes I'm overbearing, overprotective and maybe a bit on the controlling side, but I want you to know it's not because I'm on some kind of power trip. It's just . . . I want what is best for you, Donna. You deserve nothing but the best," he said as he drew her closer still.

Donna felt herself overcome with emotion. She could have kissed him right then, right there for saying that. Luckily, she maintained the presence of mind to resist that urge. But she did manage to give Josh some validation.

"So do you," she whispered as she gave him a quick, gentle squeeze. They sank a little more into each other as the singer resumed singing.

"It would be fun  
To be certain that I'm the one  
To know that I at least, I at least supply the shoulder you cry upon

To see you through  
'Till you're everything you want to be  
It can't be true, but  
This time the dream's on me  
This time the dream's on me."

As the song ended, CJ whispered into Toby's ear.

"Toby?" CJ said sleepily.

"Yeah?"

"Remember how I said you might need to take me home?" she asked, leaning on him for more than moral support.

"Yes?"

"I think I need you to do that now."

"OK." Toby pulled away from her, but kept his arm around her to prevent her from falling over. He grabbed their coats from the nearby rack while she sat, now placing her elbow on the table so she could lean her head on it. She hadn't had much alcohol – only a couple of beers – but her exhaustion combined with that small amount to render her barely functional.

Toby held out her coat and she used one arm at a time to lean against the wall while she put it on.

"You guys taking off?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Toby replied. "We'll see you in the morning."

"OK," Sam said. "Goodnight."

Josh and Donna waved bye to Toby and CJ from the dance floor. CJ reached into her purse for her keys and Toby held out his hand expectantly. Again he kept his arm around her while they made their way to her car. He used the remote keyless entry to unlock the car and opened the door for CJ. As soon as he let go, she became woozy and hit her head on the top of the doorframe.

"Ow!" CJ exclaimed.

"You might wanna--"

"I know Toby, I'm just not very steady right now," CJ snapped.

"I mean, you are a tall woman--"

"Toby," she said with an unmistakable tone of warning in her voice.

"All right. I was just trying to make you laugh," he said while helping her into the passenger's seat.

She offered him a weak smile. "I know. I'm sorry."

Toby gently closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. He quickly adjusted the seat, closed the door, and turned over the engine. He heard music begin to play. He went to turn off the CD player, but CJ waved away his hand.

"This is a good song," she said with mostly closed eyes while leaning back into her seat. "You should hear it."

"You sure it won't bother you?"

"No. It's been helping, actually."

Toby put the car into drive and pulled out onto the rainy street. The streetlamps broke through the tunnel of darkness. He began to listen to the words.

I'm fed up with my destiny  
And this place of no return  
I think I'll take another day  
And slowly watch it burn  
It doesn't really matter  
How the time goes by  
'Cause I still remember you and I  
And that beautiful goodbye

We staggered through these empty streets  
Laughing arm in arm  
The night had made a mess of me  
Your confessions kept me warm  
And I don't really miss you  
I just need to know  
Do you ever think of you and I  
And that beautiful goodbye . . .

Toby began to recall the last night they saw each other before he went to California to ask her to join the Bartlet campaign. They had been drinking, and had hinted at things without coming right out and saying them. That's the way their relationship had always been: a half-uttered promise of something more that both kept up to a point, but never completely fulfilling it.

When I see you now  
I wonder how  
I could've watched you walk away  
If I let you down  
Please forgive me now  
For that beautiful goodbye

He had often wondered why they never could seem to get off the dime. They could have overcome the whole religious thing, with him being Jewish and her being Catholic. It was something else. Perhaps the risk of possibly losing the best friendship either of them had ever had prevented them from taking the next step. It was a puzzle he could never seem to solve, but one he knew he'd have to solve someday – perhaps soon.

In these days of no regrets  
I keep mine to myself  
And all the things we never said  
I can say for someone else  
And nothing lasts forever   
But we always try  
And I just can't help but wonder why  
We let it pass us by . . .

When he stopped at the last traffic light before her place, he looked over at her face. The red light, diffused by the raindrops resting on the window, made the stress in her face more visible. She was dead to the world, her arm hanging carelessly at her side. He took her hand and squeezed it. He was shocked when she squeezed it back. Neither of them let go. When the light changed, he drove with one arm.

When I see you now  
I wonder how  
I could've watched you walk away  
If I let you down  
Please forgive me now  
For that beautiful goodbye . . .

Toby pulled into her space and turned off the car. He caressed her hand slightly.

"CJ?" he said softly.

"Hmm?"

"We're home. Or, at least, you're home."

She squeezed her eyes tight and forced them open. She looked down and found their hands locked. She stared for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Feeling self-conscious, Toby let go. CJ knew she had made him feel uncomfortable. It wasn't her intention – she just didn't know where to take it from there. She had some thoughts, but for some unknown reason, couldn't bring herself to follow through.

Toby unfastened his seatbelt and hurried out of the car. Before she realized it, he had come to her side and opened her door. CJ slowly undid her seatbelt and turned herself around to exit the car. Toby offered his hand to help her out and she took it. When she was fully upright, he closed the door. They went up the stairs together, still holding hands. Once they were at the front door, they faced each other.

"Will you be OK from here?" Toby asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Do you want to crash here--"

"No, I'll grab a cab so I can get my car back at the bar."

"All right," CJ replied. They were silent for a few moments, still holding hands.

"You know, I hate this. I mean, all that we're going through. But if I have to go through it, I'm glad you're with me." CJ didn't want to be overly sentimental because she knew Toby had a low tolerance for it, but she wanted him to know on some level what he meant to her.

"Me too," Toby said, feeling awkward. He knew there should be something else, but he couldn't seem to pull it out of himself. The speechwriter was speechless.

Not knowing what else to do, they embraced simultaneously. They held on to one another for about 30 seconds before pulling apart, also at the same time. They exchanged half-smiles and Toby made his way to the street. CJ turned to insert the key into the door. Toby turned around to face her.

"Goodnight," he shouted while walking backwards.

CJ turned to face him. "Goodnight."

As Toby walked down the street searching for a cab to hail, part of the song he had just heard echoed through his head:

When I see you now  
I wonder how  
I could've watched you walk away  
If I let you down  
Please forgive me now  
For that beautiful goodbye

Maybe all of this is a parable, Toby thought. Maybe we all deserve a second chance.

Meanwhile, back at the bar, Josh and Donna decided to head home and Sam offered Charlie a lift. Charlie had been hoping to talk to Sam privately ever since his uncomfortable chat with Oliver Babbish, so he accepted the ride.

"Actually Sam, I'm glad we have a few minutes alone," Charlie said as they headed towards the car.

"What's going on, Charlie?"

"Well, you're a lawyer who understands litigation," Charlie replied as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

"True."

"So, what do you think our chances are?"

Sam thought for a couple of minutes while he started the car. "There are too many variables to say, Charlie. Too many people involved, too many angles that can be played by both sides. All we can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say," Charlie replied.

A few familiar notes flowed from the radio.

"I know this song," Sam said as he turned it up.

There is freedom within,  
There is freedom without  
Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup  
There's a battle ahead  
Many battles are lost  
But you'll never see the end of the road while you're traveling with me

Hey now, hey now  
Don't dream it's over  
Hey now, hey now  
When the world comes in  
They come, they come   
To build a wall between us  
You know, they want to win . . .

Sam let the lyrics sink in.

"We have to stick together. There's strength in numbers. They'll try to divide and conquer. We have to stay strong, stick to our guns and fight like hell. That's our strategy."

"I hope it works."

"Me too, Charlie. Me too," Sam said as the singer sang out the last line.

"Don't let them win."

List of songs used in this fanfic, in order:

"String Quartet in G Minor" composed by Claude Debussy  
"Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp" composed by Claude Debussy  
"Take My Hand" by Dido  
"Heart On Her Sleeve" by Idina Menzel  
"This Time the Dream's On Me" composed by Johnny Mercer  
"Beautiful Goodbye" by Amanda Marshall  
"Don't Dream It's Over" by Crowded House


End file.
